


Rectification

by Oft



Series: Stress Relief [3]
Category: Tron: Uprising
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oft/pseuds/Oft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dyson has to indulge Clu's . . . better nature . . .  early in the coup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rectification

Dyson stood at the window of Clu's throne ship, holding back while recognizers bombarded more ISO towers, crystalline white arches, graceful lines against the ragged texture of the outlands, falling like so much detrius code through the air to crash and scatter and blink into darkness. The surrounding city structures fell to ruin in quick succession, bits of white marking ISOs themselves fleeing in ragged paths only to be met then blotted out by red code. Dyson's dark eyes caught the reflection of golden lines in the window before he heard Clu step up alongside of him, smiling with smug satisfaction at the wholesale destruction below.

Dyson longed for the ISOs to be wiped from the grid, but he almost felt a twinge of remorse at seeing the beautiful buildings being razed. It made sense that Clu would eradicate even those traces of abberance, so Dyson pushed the fleeting thought aside.

'The purge seems to be well along schedule, sir. The new rectification code works splendidly.' He heard Clu snort a little to his side.

'Indeed. It would go even better if we had TRON down there.' Dyson felt Clu's gaze focus on him, and he knew Clu was referring to the recognizer lost to the crash that scattered its inhabitants to voxels across the barren landscape on what should have been an eventless transfer to the rectification stations.

'Yes. Shame about that.' Hopefully Clu wouldn't mention it again. His fingers twitched behind his back as he shifted his clasped hands, focusing on a squad of red fanning out to contain an explosion of white. Then Clu's golden circuited finger slid over his shoulder into view, hand grasping Dyson tight.

'We'll do fine without. Right?' Dyson turned his head to face Clu, who grinned wide watching the obliteration playing out. He was pulled closer with a jolt, Clu's grip easily discernible past the hard armor of his shoulderplate. Dyson paused before answering, wondering if there was a right answer for the luminary.

'Correct, sir.' Clu faced him now, smile full of actual amusement, presumably due to the overwhelming success at the strike. Dyson returned the smile briefly before Clu turned the both of them away from the window to stroll back into the ship.

'I think we've earned a bit of celebration. Only a matter of time before this little matter is cleared off the grid and we get the rest of the basics settled and back in tune with the system.' Clu let his hand fall away from Dyson's shoulder, but pushed against Dyson's back instead, motioning him through the door first, then turning towards more private quarters. Dyson found he wasn't particularly relishing what was coming next.

He followed Clu through the doorway of his personal chambers, really a small room where he could partition himself away from the rest of the functions of the ship. It was one of the many user affectations he inherited from Flynn- the need for occasional isolation from other programs. Dyson never understood the need for it. 

'Come here.' Clu's rumbling order caught Dyson's attention. The luminary had already parked himself into the reclining chair that took up part of the room- a bed took up the other. More user affectations. Dyson strode to Clu's side, hands still behind his back as he stood and looked down on Clu. 

'I assume you didn't want me here for business.'

'Of course not. I said 'celebration', I'll not dance around it and pretend I didn't mean catering to me.' His hand found Dyson's thigh and trailed over the edge of the armor where Dyson felt the bleed off of the single circuit through his undersuit.

'I don't . . .' Dyson started to object.

'You WILL.' Clu's fingers hooked under the edge of the armor on his thigh, pulling Dyson down and forward. Dyson's hands shot forward to brace against the sudden downwards pull, falling against Clu and his chair. Clu's other hand was on Dyson's face, cupping his chin in a rough grip, fingers digging in where Dyson had once been missing a huge gash of voxels.

'I trust you remember the favor I did for you.' Clu scraped his fingers down Dyson's cheek, earning a wince from Dyson as he followed it down, trying to lessen the sharp pain.

'I do.' Dyson's expression was a sharp grimace until Clu released him, his hand raising to soothe the trail of ache left in Clu's wake.

'Then you shouldn't have an issue with this. Play the siren tonight, Dyson.' Clu smiled at Dyson again, and Dyson glared in reply. This wasn't what he expected as repayment for perfection. Clu stroked his fingers through Dyson's hair, trailing against the back of his head before he leaned back, pulling his cloak open wide with a bit of flourish while he stretched out. Dyson held Clu's gaze for a moment before settling into a more comfortable position on his knees, scanning over the lit gold that lined Clu's form before making a decision to start tracing the lights starting with Clu's ankle. 

No smirk graced Dyson's mouth, only a slight frown backed up with a clenching of jaw. Too bad he didn't have the cutter modulator some of the sirens had to poke protest directly into Clu's circuitry. He pushed the thought out of reach as soon as it hit and focused on trailing the tips of his own finger circuits against the river of gold that traced along Clu's ankle, then calf, earning a content hum from the administrator as he did so. Small sparks of pleasure trailed up through his fingers as well, but the sensation was fleeting at best with his mood spiraling downwards. When his hand hit the node of Clu's hip, Clu closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, hip driving up into Dyson's touch. Dyson reached over, other hand employing the same sensation to the other circle of gold on the opposite hip, and Clu grasped his wrists, holding them in place, forcing Dyson's touch to lock into his circuit feedback.

Dyson felt the sensation warm and vibrate through his fingers, then his wrists, enticing him to drag another finger against each of the circles. It pulled another gasp from Clu before the administrator yanked Dyson forward, dragging his hands to the ladder of station that graced Clu's chest, derezzing armor out of the way for direct contact before sliding his own hand down to the node along Dyson's hip. Dyson splayed his fingers over the intricate skin circuitry, pulling down as he slowly sank back to his heels, feeling the skitter and pull of electricity under his hands. He watched Clu closely now, going through what felt like automatic motion, waiting for the signal he could vacate the room and resume his post. 

Clu felt Dyson pull away, and opened his eyes. 

'Get up here.' He patted his thigh, and Dyson cringed back. 'It wasn't a request.' Dyson's scowl returned as he stood and threw one leg over the span of Clu's outstretched legs, slowly sinking down to seat himself over Clu's thighs. Clu reached forward and immediately latched fingers over suit, derezzing the black into pixellation over sides and abdomen, and dragging his hands over Dyson's crosswork of red and white lines, making Dyson's body twitch in time with the sharp ping and snap of contact before Dyson's hands grabbed Clu's, forcing him to a stop.

'WHAT exactly do you want me to do here? I thought you brought me along to oversee this endeavor. If you want to punish me for losing Tron, get to it. If you want to indulge in a user-style fuck, do that. I don't like this half-game you're creating.'

Clu smiled wide, the most open Dyson had seen him in cycles. Dyson pulled back a little, and Clu just let his hands drift gently over the circuits of Dyson's hands to circle his wrists, keeping him in place.

'This is why I wanted you as my right hand. You don't cut short with me. I can trust you.' Dyson only glowered even more. ' I was wondering when you'd balk against making you pull siren duty for me, though.' Dyson pulled his hands back out of Clu's.

'Answer my question,' Dyson growled. Clu stared at Dyson for a few nanos, then grasped Dyson's hips and pulled him forward, lodging him over Clu's groin. Dyson's hand slapped down against Clu's chest for stabilization at the sharp motion, eyes going a little wider at the hard shaft grinding up against him.

'There's the answer,' Clu smirked again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dyson found himself clawing the sheets of the bed, gasping for breath against the surface while Clu covered him with his heavy body, knees spreading Dyson's thighs wide while pounding into him roughly. He had already overloaded twice at Clu's controlling hands, but the luminary hadn't slowed or even showed sign he was anywhere near overload. They kept it simple- direct circuit contact and pawing, scratching, biting against sensitive nodes, and then user interface. Dyson had been aware of the basics of it but hadn't indulged much. Now he felt like he couldn't get enough of it, not with Clu splitting him apart in the best way.

Every time a cry found it's way past Dyson's lips, heavy with gravel and need, Clu would plunge deeper, matching the moans and effort. The ladder of Clu's rank would scrape down the lattice of circuit over Dyson's back, sparking a sensitive rattle and hiccup in his system that only threaded more tightly into the ache that persisted in his core. Clu's fingers were hard around hip or shoulder, always finding leverage as he shifted Dyson like a toy, every new angle finding a new point of electric ecstasy that sent both programs shuddering.

Now Clu started to flag, not from lack of energy, but the impending crest of overload. It alsmost seemed like he was holding back, and Dyson pushed back, wanting his commander to finish it, to find an end to the interface before the buildup rendered him useless. He bucked his hips back, finding his own rhythm to match Clu's slowing thrusts, drawing groans and stuttering breaths as Clu braced his hands over Dyson's rounded buttocks, plying flesh and circuit, then the overload hit, and he pulled Dyson tight against him as he came, flooding the blackguard's ass with warm glow, then fell forward, still docked within Dyson. His weight settled, pinning Dyson to the bed as he shuddered through yet another overload himself, finally able to catch his breath as the luminary slid into reboot, sleep robbing him of motion.

Dyson groaned in frustration at being trapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dyson's code still ached several millicycles later as he indulged in offduty drinks. He refused to acknowledge the need for another round of interface, at least with the luminary. The sirens of the idling club made their rounds, and he contemplated snagging one for quick relief. Several drink later and he was alone with one, pawing off her suit to get at her circuits, pausing momentarily to catch her eyes.

'Are you up for adjusting for a completely new subroutine?' His expectant gaze was matched by a wide grin from his partner.

'I would be delighted.'

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, this happens BEFORE all the rest of Dyson's OTHER siren shenanigans, just so you know.


End file.
